


Out of Bounds

by Crescent_Moon_Demon



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blackmail, Dirty Thoughts, Drama, Eventual Romance, Kidnapping, Language, M/M, Manipulation, Masturbation, Multi, Murder, Prison, Rape, Role Reversal, Sparklings, Stalking, Violence, babysitter, evil tendencies, reversed shota
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-27 23:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2710559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crescent_Moon_Demon/pseuds/Crescent_Moon_Demon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*AU* What are you supposed to do when you're just a simple babysitter and a certain, crazy 'copter decides they like you? Mech/Mech, slash, angst, language, mentions of rape and abuse</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Babysitter

**C.M.D: This pairing is a good way for me to explore darker character archetypes and relationships, and though I know many people may not like them (Vortex especially), I have grown a fondness for them in my heart all the same. Which has reflected in their relationship over time. In this instance, I was interested in seeing how an age reversal on these two would play out and thus, this was born.**  
 **Inspired by my friend Randomus-Prime. Originally posted on FF.net.**

Vortex liked the new babysitter.

He sat, half-crouched on the couch's arm, watching intently as the Autobot attempted to reign in control of the situation. "Oh, you really shouldn't do that, Brawl," the white mech said, approaching the dim-witted sparkling, who was currently trying to gnaw his way through live cabling. "You might hurt yourself!"

Brawl glared, tightening his grip on the black wire, hunching over his "meal" defensively. None of the others even bothered to try and help, either busy evaluating how much of a schmuck this new 'bot would be or just not caring if the tank hurt himself again or not. It was actually amusing half the time. Mindful of his wings, the babysitter knelt before Brawl, reaching into his subspace and bringing out a little cartoon butterfly lunch container. Immediately, sneers pulled at all the siblings' faces -except Brawl's, who still had his denta wrapped tight around that cable.

"I've got some energon goodies! Wouldn't you much rather have those than that nasty wire?," the Autobot asked, holding up his container in demonstration. "They're really yummy! I helped make them with my brothers."

You could see the gears working in Brawl's helm, before the tank threw down the cable and held out his servos, fingers making grabbing motions in silent demand of the aforementioned sweets. The jet smiled brightly, before opening his container and giving several goodies to the green sparkling. They were shoved straight into Brawl's mouth in the next instant; chewed and chomped down loudly in a disgusting and uncivilized manner. Giggling at what must have been a cute sight to the Autobot, he patted the Decepticon's helm, rising to his pedes and facing the other sparklings.

"I'm Fireflight, by the way! I hope we'll have lots of fun!," he chirped, cradling his butterfly container to his chestplates.

At the mention of 'fun', Onslaught folded his arms over his chestplates and attempted to stare down their babysitter. Blast Off picked up his book -some old, ratty, hardly known datafile from Cybertron's golden age era- and marched off to his favourite reading corner, while Swindle's greedy visor lit and his servos scrambled for a free drawing pad.

"For a limited time only, if you sign over your frame and release all material possessions to me you can be guaranteed five kliks of fun for no extra charge!," the little jeep rambled, rushing up to Fireflight and trying to shove his crudely hand-drawn contract into the Autobot's face. "Certified for bumps, nicks, and possible helm trauma!"

"Umm...," Fireflight mumbled, somewhat perplexed.

"I think I may know of a few buyers who might be interested in your soon-to-be merchandise, Swindle," Onslaught began cruelly from behind the smallest sparkling. "Sign the sheet, Autobot, and you'll be given your own 'treat' in just a -"

Enough was enough for the helicopter. "Back off Swin," he chirped, skipping to the pair and slipping in between the jet and the jeep. "This one's mine."

Swindle pouted, clutching his drawing pad to his chestplates sourly. "But 'Tex..."

The helicopter loomed over his younger brother, red visor flashing darkly and one servo twisting up to grab at the tan sparkling's neck, out of sight of their babysitter. "I said 'no'. We clear?," Vortex hummed good-naturedly.

Swindle nodded his helm as best as he could, scampering off and hesitating to blow a raspberry at the other Decepticon before he went to go amuse himself elsewhere. Seeing that his hopes for getting rid of the annoying mech were fruitless, now that one of them had chosen they liked the babysitter, Onslaught turned and strode out of the living room; more than likely heading up to his room and his table-top strategy game.

Fireflight shuttered his optics uncertainly as his wards all wandered off in different directions, the small knot of failure beginning to form in his fuel tanks. "Wait. Shouldn't we-?"

"They're not going anywhere!," the strange helicopter chirped as he turned to face the Autobot. Vortex grabbed Fireflight's servo and began yanking him to the couch. "Come. Sit with me. I want some goodies too, you know."

"Oh, but..." The youngling glanced over his shoulder plating at the other sparklings still in view. But seeing as how they weren't doing anything of any trouble, or danger, Fireflight decided that maybe they would be alright by themselves for a little while. The big jet Starscream had mentioned that they were good sparklings for keeping themselves preoccupied. Turning his attention back to the odd sparkling, Fireflight smiled shyly and sat down as Vortex plopped onto one of the seat cushions himself.

A little gasp of surprise left the white mech when the helicopter next wriggled under his arm, stretching over the Autobot's lap and resting his chin there casually. "Can I have a treat?," Vortex asked innocently, his red visor glowing brightly as he looked up at the jet.

His initial concern fading, Fireflight gladly reached into his container, pulling out an energon goodie and holding it out for the Decepticon. The grey 'bot didn't take it though, as he would have thought, but instead, retracted his mask and opened his mouth wide. Smiling, the babysitter placed the treat neatly on Vortex's glossa; giving the sparkling's helm a little pat and giggling as Vortex snapped his lip components around the goodie, chewing avidly on the sweet.

Behind him, the helicopter's rotors gave a little shiver.

Normally, he hated all the babysitters his carrier brought home. He had multitudes of traps and pranks set up, great for deterring would-be watchers away, or otherwise great for traumatizing them. But he'd already went around and tore them all down after catching a glimpse of Fireflight. The youngling was cute, sweet, oblivious, innocent...

Vortex grinned dangerously as he settled down further, his twisted processor already running away with ideas. He was going to have a lot of fun with the jet, he just knew it. And the best part? The sparkling was going to have Fireflight all to himself.

He couldn't wait.


	2. Goodies

"Time for baking!," Fireflight chirped, slipping on an apron. Vortex watched from the counter, his rotors shivering as he stared intently at the autobot while he tied the straps under his wings. His carrier's apron was a bit too big for the younger flyer, but it still snug beautifully around his curves, complete with a bright smile and glimmering blue optics.

Unaware of the lewd look-over he was getting, the jet turned to his younger charges, beaming at them as he clapped his servos together. "Today, we're going to bake energon goodies! Doesn't that sound fun?," he asked.

Swindle shuttered his optics slowly, before returning to his datapad and scrawling out the market value of selling goodies compared to the industry costs of producing them in a small kitchen. Onslaught and Blast Off were both missing from the baking party, having deemed it unworthy of their time, but Brawl had oddly opted to stay. It probably had something to do with the fact that he was currently eyeing the giant bag of energon mix like a ravenous turbofox. And, of course, Vortex was around because he never missed a chance to be near their babysitter.

'Mmm... covered in energon,' he thought lewdly to himself, imagining the luminescent magenta drizzled all over Fireflight's frame, instead of Starscream's gaudy apron.

The little helicopter swallowed back a chirp, trying to shake loose from his tempting thoughts and focus on what was happening right in front of him. Thinking about the autobot in so many humiliating poses was fun, yes, but nothing could beat the live experience before his very own optics.

"Alright," Fireflight began, turning to the stove as he adopted a teaching voice, "We first need to pre-heat the oven, so its nice and hot for when we go to bake our goodies." His fingers turned the dials to moderate settings, about half-way. "Next, we start making the goodie mix!"

Brawl practically lunged for the bag of energon mix as soon as their babysitter had said that, tackling it to the floor in his excitement. Unfortunately, the dolt landed right on top of the bag, causing it to explode underneath him, sending a giant cloud bursting upwards, covering the stunned Firefligt and Swindle thickly.

Vortex, luckily, had managed to dodge the sweet powder attack, and now licked his lip components hungrily as he watched Fireflight smile wryly, attempting to wipe the mix from his face. "Alright, well...," the flyer said, "We'll have to clean this up as soon as we're done. In the meantime," he turned to the cupboard, pulling out another bag of mix, "We'll get started on actually getting our goodies made."

"Swindle, do you want to-"

The little jeep looked at Fireflight flatly. "No," he quickly replied, before the autobot could even finish his question. Fireflight stood there uncertainly, a bowl in his servos. "I don't bake."

Vortex turned his helm to his brother, glaring at him. The stupid cog was making Fireflight sad... No one but him got to do things like that!

"O-oh... um...," the jet shyly began. "Would you, um, be kind enough to help in starting to clean up then? That way there's less work once we're done mixing up the goodies? I'll let you have some of my share for helping."

Brawl made a sound of protest, but Swindle ignored him, cocking his helm to the side as he thought it over. "Deal!," he chirped shortly afterwards, heading for the pantry closet and the cleaning supplies. Fireflight smiled happily to see the sparkling participating again, even if it was in a different fashion than he'd planned, and turned to Brawl with the bowl.

"Brawl," he said sweetly, "Would you mind filling this up for me? That way we can get started on the goodies!"

At the promise of treats, the little tank ripped the bowl from their babysitter's servos, sprinting for the sink. Vortex avoided getting body-checked by the clumsy sparkling, frowning at him in annoyance, before turning both a smile and his whole attention to Fireflight. The jet leaned down a little to be more level with the helicopter.

"Are you ready to make some goodies?," he asked sweetly.

"Yep!" 'Ready to make you mine, too,' the decepticon purred in his helm.

**xxXxXxx**

"Alright... and now we just put the trays in the oven and let them sit there for twenty kliks, or until the goodies are ready!" Fireflight opened the stove, carefully sliding the trays of raw energon goodies in, before shutting the door and straightening up; tugging his oven mitts off as he faced his charges again.

Swindle sat at the table once more, scribbling in his datapad now that he'd finished cleaning up Brawl's mess from earlier, while Brawl and Vortex stood in front of Fireflight expectantly. Brawl's greedy optics were focused on the oven and the cooking treats within, but Vortex's gaze had been glued to the lovely little aft as the flier had bent over to insert the trays. Now he smiled up at Fireflight, all innocence and cuteness.

"What do we do now?," he asked, a little bit a purr escaping him.

Fireflight beamed. "Well, now, we get to lick the utensils!," he chirped, excitedly reaching and grabbing the two spoons they had used for mixing and spooning the mix onto the cooking trays. He held one out for each sparkling. "The best part of making the mix is getting to lick what's left off the spoon afterwards," the jet giggled, watching in delight as Brawl gasped before yanking the utensil from his servo and shoving it straight into his mouth.

Vortex was calmer taking his, but the visor gleamed eagerly all the same as he pulled the spoon to his face; optics glancing up at the autobot as he licked the tip gently. He grabbed a dallop of mix on his glossa, bringing it back to his mouth slowly, smearing it on his lip components momentarily before licking the substance off entirely. Returning to the spoon, the sparkling slid his glossa up and across the spoon's circumference, taking time to let the appendage curl and lap at the sides and tip.

He saw Swindle stare at him in absolute horror from across the room as he molested the spoon with his glossa, moaning and purring softly around the utensil as he slid it into his mouth. Fireflight only smiled at him kindly, before turning away to start washing the rest of the dishes.

Vortex stopped.

Here he was, blatantly sucking off a spoon, and the autobot didn't even care! Pouting, the helicopter pulled the spoon out of his mouth, handing it to Brawl who was eyeing the rest of the mix on it hungrily. Slaggit, Vortex huffed quietly, crossing his arms over his chestplates. He wanted to show off the new skills he'd spent the last week researching, to demonstrate to Fireflight how good he could be... but the flier just couldn't get the hint.

Oh...

The grey sparkling thought about that for a moment, his optics fixed wholly on the cute mech in front of him. Maybe the reason why Fireflight didn't care about what he was doing, was because the jet was too innocent to clue in! And if that was the case (which, really, given the circumstances was highly probable) then that meant Vortex would just have to work harder to prove himself and corrupt his adorable babysitter.

Cupping his servos together a bit as he swooned, the decepticon eagerly set to plotting away again, listing all the things he would have to research on and eventually use on the unsuspecting Fireflight.


	3. Sleep

Fireflight figured eventually such a time would come. Starscream was stuck at work and couldn't get away for the night. He called ahead of time, asking if the little Autobot jet could possibly stay and watch over his sons until he came home that night. He even invited him to sleep over, on the off-chance he got out too late for Fireflight to go home. The babysitter had no problem with it, but he first had to call his parents and ask.

Vortex watched, with bated intakes, from the kitchen doorway as the youngling made his comm call home; visor gleaming in devilish glee when Fireflight's parents agreed to him staying over.

From there on in, things went fairly smoothly. Fireflight made them dinner and washed the dishes, before springing on the unsuspecting sparklings that their carrier would not be coming home until later that night, so he would see them to bed. That was a little more difficult. Swindle wouldn't go to berth until Fireflight had bribed him with treats, Onslaught laughed at him when he offered to draw him a bath, Blast Off flat out ignored him, and Brawl struggled like an eel during bath time, creating a giant, sopping mess everywhere.

Eventually though, the jet managed to get everyone ready for bed, turning off lights and tidying up for the night. Yawning, Fireflight wandered downstairs to the living room, plopping on the couch and sinking into the cushions with exhaustion. He was starting to drift off when he heard something at the doorway.

"W-what...? V-vortex...? Is something wrong?," the Autobot asked, sitting up and rubbing tiredly at his optics.

The grey sparkling canted his helm to the side, his visor dim and the rest of his concealed face hidden behind the pillow he cradled to his chestplates. "...I couldn't sleep," the helicopter mumbled. "Could I stay down here with you for a bit?"

"Oh... um," Fireflight moved over a little bit, smiling at the Decepticon. "Yes, of course. Did you have a bad dream?"

"Not really...," Vortex replied softly, in his best and most innocent voice. He scurried across the room before anymore questions could be asked, clambering up onto the couch and spreading across Fireflight's lap. Used to it by now, the jet did not even flinch at the action, immediately resting his servo on the sparkling's helm and stroking the plating gently.

Even if he wasn't a perv, Vortex would have been melting into the delicate touch, lulled into a calm peace by the tender caress. Fireflight had nice servos; gentle servos... He never used them to hurt anything, but liked to explore and hug and care for everything with them. Vortex would have preferred for those servos to be under his codpiece, rubbing his aching spike, while he bit and sucked on those plump lip components.

"Mmm..."

"Would you like a lullaby, Vortex?," Fireflight asked, his optics dim and warm as he looked down on the Decepticon snuggling further into his lap; little arms winding around his waist as best as they could in Vortex's position.

The grey helm nodded jerkily against his servo.

Chuckling a little, the jet leaned back on the couch, getting comfortable himself while resuming his petting. He started first by humming a couple bars of a song Vortex had never heard before, changing a couple kliks after and half-whispering, half-singing the lyrics that went along with it. It was nothing that the sparkling knew of. Words of dreams and love and cradled upon big, strong wings... Starscream never sang them lullabies, especially not ones with such fanciful things. Their carrier was usually too busy, having to take care of five, rapidly growing creations on his own.

Besides, it's not like the older jet even cared about silly things like that.

Fireflight trailed off into a hum as Vortex sat up a little, twisting his helm to stare up at the Autobot. "Yes?," he asked curiously, stopping the lullaby altogether as he shuttered his optics at the smaller mech.

"You have a pretty voice...," Vortex replied.

The youngling smiled. "Thank you."

"I like it..."

"Awww."

"I like you."

Fireflight patted Vortex's helm, smiling brighter. "I like you too, Vortex!"

The sparkling frowned, his rotors giving a quick twitch. Of course the white mech didn't get it. He never seemed to. Seeing that being honest with Fireflight was pointless, Vortex fell back to his routine responses, snapping his mask back and smiling at the flyer. "Could I get a kiss goodnight?," he asked cheekily.

The jet giggled, not forseeing the danger in such a request. "Why of course," he answered, leaning forward.

Vortex felt his spark actually miss a pulse, his rotors shivering avidly in his excitement. Pursing his lips in wait, the helicopter let his optics shutter more and more closed as Fireflight leaned towards him; shuttering them entirely, waiting to press against that soft-looking mouth. Instead, he felt something warm and tender press right along his brow, before both Fireflight and that warm pressure were pulling back.

The Decepticon was still shuttering his optics in puzzled surprise even after the babysitter began to stroke his helm again. "Better?," Fireflight asked cheerfully.

Vortex turned his pouting face from the Autobot, sinking back onto his pillow and Fireflight's lap quietly, before muttering a forced, merry, "Yes."

"I'm glad," the other mech said, his gentle fingers working their magic once again. Vortex didn't mind though. He really, really liked the touching, and he knew that eventually Fireflight would have to go to sleep as well.

And hopefully -before Starscream came home- the helicopter would get his own chance to touch the jet while he slumbered.

Purring at the idea, Vortex snuggled closer, venting softly as Fireflight petted the area about his audios; taking in the youngling's lovely, sweet scent, lost in simulations of those servos being lower and that tender mouth panting his name.


	4. Pillow

**C.M.D: This chapter is not necessary to read, but it is an addition, which I believe further showcases Vortex depravity and twisted mentality, despite his youth. If you feel uncomfortable at the idea of a sparkling and masturbation, please feel free to skip ahead.**

Vortex didn't sleep much anymore.

"Aah... aah... o-oh... y-yeah..."

Rotors shivering, the sparkling thrust faster, his spike slipping easily between the self-made rip in his pillow. The hole had been made weeks prior, the material first worn down and then eventually just ripped altogether from the frequency of the helicopter's masturbation. Even the usually soft, plump filling inside was nothing more than lumpy and matted cotton, soaked with the number of times Vortex had overloaded still sheathed inside its folds.

Really, it wasn't the best feeling -what with the scratchy texture of the cotton and the slimy sensation of old transfluid- but it was the best that Vortex could simulate to a real valve and he liked it best when he overloaded, and could feel his hot liquids filling the space and dampening the area between his thighs.

"Mmm... F-fireflight...," the sparkling moaned, sitting up, bunching the pillow tighter under his legs and rocking harder. He offlined his optics, fingers like claws around the cushion, as he let his processor run away with some of his favourite fantasies: visions of Fireflight, his new babysitter, folded underneath him, plating peeled back and wrists cuffed tightly to his berthframe as the jet whimpered and gasped, begging to be pounded until he overloaded hard. Oh, how badly he wanted to fill the Autobot up with his fluids.

Hunching over a little, Vortex quickly pulled out of the pillow, flipping it over, revealing a photograph of Fireflight's face taped to the other side. He kissed it, right on a worn-down spot near the picture's mouth, before straddling the pillow again -this time about the middle- and began to fist himself roughly. "Y-yes... yes... yes, yes, yes, yes," he hissed, panting harder, giving his spike a few good squeezes. "So-soon... soon, F-fireflight. Soon, I... I'm g-gonna-"

Vortex whimpered as he overloaded, transfluid splattering across the pillow and on the image's face. The helicopter stared, fascinated, by how beautiful the fluid looked decorated across Fireflight's photograph. He just knew it would look a hundred times better in reality. Cooing, spent and sated, the sparkling collapsed on top of his soiled pillow; hips rocking into it slowly as he kissed and licked at the photograph's glossy face, murmuring words of adoration and longing desire for the mech smiling back up at him.

"Mine... my Fireflight," Vortex purred, hugging his pillow tightly, his visor dimming as his optics slowly shuttered beneath it. He sighed, rotors shivering again as he slipped off to recharge finally, schemes and ideas running through his helm and all concerning his _beloved_ , _innocent_ , and _corruptible_ babysitter.


	5. Report

"Now, now, um... Fireflight was it?," Starscream said, turning to the youngling gathering his things together. He smiled when the white jet turned to him. "What's the hurry? You got a date or something?"

The Autobot flushed at the joke, waving his servos before himself in embarrassment. "P-please, Mrs. Starscream, I-i don't know what you're talking about," Fireflight protested softly. "I-i was just heading home -momma wants me to come help with dinner."

Starscream cocked an optic ridge at that; setting a servo on his hip as he grabbed the youngling and steered him towards the living room couch. "First of all, call me just Starscream. None of this miss or missus slag... And second," he continued, ignoring the startled mech, "I was only teasing. I really just want to ask you a couple things before you left for the orn."

The younger 'bot seemed strangely surprised by that. "O-oh... okay!" Chirping, Fireflight settled himself down comfortably on the couch, giving his whole attention to the seeker. Slightly unnerved by the youngling's exuberance, Starscream sat himself down in the adjacent love seat, crossing his arms over his cockpit.

"Well now," he began slowly, "It's come to my attention that you've been here for a while... Not many babysitters have lasted that long. So, I have to wonder, how have my sparklings been since you started watching them?"

Fireflight cocked his helm to the side, a little baffled by the older jet's words, but he smiled nonetheless, straightening up in his seat. "Well, they're wonderful mechlings!," he beamed, his wings fluttering a little behind him. "We all get along wonderfully!"

Starscream looked at the Autobot flatly. "Wonderfully? Define 'wonderfully', please."

Blushing, the little jet smiled apologetically, before giving his answer. "Well, Onslaught and Blast Off are such big mechlings! They like to play and read by themselves, so I don't need to watch them. If they want something, I'm readily available to help them, as long as it's nothing dangerous or bad, but they never want things like that. Swindle also likes to play by himself but he joins in on our group activities often, like when we bake or make crafts. He's very good at making things and he always shares them with the other sparklings on the block after."

'More like he sells them,' the Decepticon thought to himself snidely. He waved a servo for the youngling to continue. "And the others?," he asked.

"Oh, Brawl is wonderful too!," Fireflight smiled. "I worry sometimes 'cause he likes to chew things I noticed, but he doesn't do any of that when we're playing games! I think he's having lots of fun and it distracts him from biting things that he shouldn't. Otherwise, he's very sweet and energetic about playing!"

Starscream nodded, not quite paying attention to Fireflight now. All he'd heard was 'blah blah sweet blah blah fun blah blah play!' His choice of babysitter seemed like a regular fun loony... but he'd been the only one to last more than a month so far. Usually, any 'bots he'd hired would have been scared off, either by Blast Off or Onslaught's cold indifference and dislike for some stranger holding authority over them or by Vortex being cree...

"... you haven't yet said anything about Vortex," the seeker commented, watching as the smaller jet shuttered his optics in surprise. "What do you think of Vortex?"

Certainly, there had to be something about his most misbehaved and irrational sparkling that the Autobot had to comment on.

Realizing he had indeed forgotten about the helicopter, the youngling blushed again, before his embarrassed expression smoothed itself into one of sweet merriment. "Vortex is the best lil' sparkling around, Ms. Starscream," Fireflight smiled, optics half-shuttering as he spoke. "He likes to give all sorts of hugs and he says lots of nice things. He never misbehaves or hogs any toys or treats and he never fights with any of his brothers. He's always eager to help and he spends the whole afternoon with me, cleaning up or keeping his brothers entertained."

"I-i...," the white mech blushed deeper, looking up at the Decepticon shyly, "I-i know it's bad to have favourites, but if I had to pick one, it would be Vortex. He's the sweetest, bestest behaved, good lil' sparkling around. You're really lucky Ms. Starscream to have such an adorable creation!"

For a few astroseconds, the multi-coloured jet just sat there, trying to keep from having a processor melt-down, while also trying to formulate a proper response. Eventually a very soft, "...huh..." escaped him, which obviously escaped Fireflight's notice. Apparently, the Autobot was unaware of a lot of things, especially if he thought Vortex was the sweetest, most Primus-blessed sparkling this side of Cybertron.

Straightening up, Starscream was not that surprised to see a shadow slink away from the living room; little rotors twitching in joy. Deciding to ignore it for now -because honestly, he was just down-right exhausted from pulling a ten-cycle shift and he really didn't feel like addressing his son's almost stalker-ish tendencies just then- instead, turning his gaze back on the merry youngling and his flickering wings.

"I ...see. Well," the seeker said, rising to his pedes. Fireflight immediately copied him. "Thank you for staying around as long as you have. Considering the circumstances, I will increase your pay and I'll start by giving you an advance right now..." Starscream reached for his wallet, pulling out a handful of credits.

Alarmed, Fireflight began waving his servos. "O-oh no! M-ms. Starscream I c-couldn't-"

"You can," Starscream interrupted, pushing the money into the youngling's servos, "And you will. I hope that you'll stay on as babysitter though."

"U-umm...," the Autobot looked down at the credits, before shyly tucking them away in subspace, "B-but, of course! I, I love your sparklings and I r-really like working here too!"

Well, at least someone else other than him could stand his rambunctious creations. "See you tomorrow then," the seeker replied, patting Fireflight on the helm quickly. "...You probably should get going. I believe you have dinner to get to?"

Jumping on the spot in remembrance, Fireflight quickly spun around, apologizing and expressing his gratitude loudly as he grabbed his backpack and hurried out the door. Rolling his optical sensors, Starscream closed the front door, before marching into the kitchen himself.

"KIDS! DINNER TIME!"


	6. For your sake

Vortex couldn't wait until he saw Fireflight again.

The sparkling purred in delight, mulling over the different items he had stowed away in his subspace. He'd spent a few good weeks, pulling together all his favourites toys and other items he was sure Fireflight would like. Some tainted goodies (injected with his own special brew of sleeping drought), secret-cam dolls, a bouquet of crystal flowers (powdered in a fine, unnoticeable ecstasy drug) and his best, persuasive wiles... well, the Autobot was as good as his! It was time, the helicopter thought, to make his move.

Weaving through the crowd with agile ease, Vortex came all that more closer to his target; the grin under the young Decepticon's mask growing wider. He could nearly smell the delectable scent of his babysitter (some sort of perfume that was reminiscent of fresh crystal saplings and the cleanser powder they put on bornlings), he was that close. Taking a deep, swooning breath, Vortex came to a pause, just enjoying his Fireflight's own unique scent among all the city smells.

When he onlined his optics again though, the sparkling was horrified to find that he had lost Fireflight. Thinking quick, Vortex approached the nearest lamp post, and climbed to its top quickly. Ignoring a few of the calls from passerbys, demanding that he get down, the helicopter tried to locate the white mech among all the other 'bots walking about.

Still, he saw nothing.

Cursing loud and colorful, the sparkling slid back down the post, deciding to scout ahead to where he had last spotted Fireflight, and then work his way from there. If only he was a little older though, and his rotors were strong enough to support him... Vortex looked forward to the orn when he could fly into the air and easily track down his missing Autobot.

Deciding not to worry about that for the time being, the Decepticon got to tracking. It didn't take him long to figure out that Fireflight had eventually detoured from the main path, going down a side alley and then into a little park clearing behind some buildings. Confused, because Fireflight, though whimsical and easily distracted in his thoughts, would never venture down such a shady, unknown path, Vortex hurried to the other side; his rotors getting all stiff for some reason. Soft, almost familiar sounds began to reach his audios as he got closer and closer...

They made his spark actually start to hurt. Which was a strange phenomenon to the unbalanced sparkling.

And when he peeked around the corner, he knew why.

"P-please... p-please...st-stop," Fireflight sobbed, choking as his intakes heaved brokenly. A strange mech hovered -no, not hovered, pressed- against the Autobot's wings; twisting Fireflight's arm and causing the jet to give another whimpering cry.

"S-shut up, whore," the stranger snarled. Appeased by the other's quick silence, he rumbled pleasantly, picking up his vicious pace and slamming into the youngling's uncovered valve roughly. Visible traces of a freshly broken seal covered the bigger mech's spike; which also happened to be soaked richly in energon.

"Mmmm... you're a tight one, aren't ya? Real soft and tender." The stranger chuckled darkly as he forced Fireflight to bend more, allowing him to reach a deeper angle. At the shift, the white jet gasped in pain, sobbing thickly all over again. His assailant obviously wasn't pleased with this, for he slapped Fireflight across the face for the sound, before shoving his olfactory sensor into the dirt. "I said shut the frag up, you lil' tramp!"

The rage that coursed through him then and there could surpass even Unicron's own mighty wrath. Gritting his denta tightly, Vortex watched in fury as this stranger abused Fireflight further, before finishing inside the youngling with a satisfied grunt. It was a thick, dark jealousy that clouded his spark, bringing the helicopter to watch with narrowed, poisonous optics as the stranger stood up, tucking himself away, sneering down on the now tainted youngling. He didn't even spare the silently weeping jet another glance as he turned away; scuffed up, broken and covered in his raper's fluids.

He couldn't stay though...

Vortex silently stared at Fireflight, still lying on the ground, sobbing, before he turned away and followed in the stranger's pedesteps. His visor flared brightly in the darkness as he went; a bloody banner of approaching doom.

**XxXxXxX**

"P-please...I-i -no! P-primus! P-please, d-don't! Aaaaghhh!"

Vortex didn't even flinch as the mech screamed, attempting to buck and writhe away from the pain, but he had been bound tight. The sparkling had made sure of it.

"'Don't'? That's interesting," the Decepticon mused casually, walking around the mech's frame. His victim tried to fight against his bonds again, but the chains only rattled and clanked desperately, taunting the poor fool with the inevitability of his fate. "You aren't the type to respect someone when they say 'don't'. And yet now you're using it yourself... Hmmmm..."

"O-oh, Primus, primus, pl-please, I," the mech sobbed, "I-i, I d-don't... I di-didn't do anything! I swe-swear, I n-never-"

"Liar!," Vortex hissed, dropping down to his knees. He dug his claws right into the mech's optics, digging into the seams and ripping the orb out. His prisoner gave a horrifying scream of pain, twisting and rolling as damaged sensors fizzled out, energon spurting all over his face and the sparkling's frame. "You touched what was mine! You violated and damaged my Fireflight!"

"P-please, I-i...," the mech sobbed, choking and spluttering weakly.

"Silence," the helicopter snarled, throwing the optic over his shoulder carelessly. "Hmmm... I think it's time we take our relationship to the next level," he grinned madly, taking his mask off and looking viciously down on the mech. "Time to bring out the toys."

Humming, Vortex jumped down from the table, skipping over to a rusted toolbox chest on the other side of the basement, ignoring the panicked screams and begging sobs of his victim as he languidly chose which item he wanted to use first.

"Fun, fun, fun," the sparkling sang insanely.

**XxXxXxX**

It had taken him a couple orns, but Fireflight managed to push himself out of his berth and onto his pedes again. Silently, he prepared for work, ignoring his family's questioning looks. He knew they had been concerned when he came home that day, worn out from crying and scuffed, but he couldn't tell them what had happened.

He didn't even want to remember himself...

Showering and getting ready quickly, the Autobot hurried on to Starscream's place, keeping his helm down and his wings lowered submissively as he made his way for the Decepticon's home. He was forced to stop though when he saw the entire block had been taped off; dozens of officers spread about, keeping the crowd back and trying to gain control. A lot of them though, surrounded Starscream's house.

"W-what... what's going on?," Fireflight asked anxiously, stepping up to some of the crowd. The other 'bots ignored him, gossiping among themselves.

"Did you hear?," a wide-set femme whispered to her friend. "Eviscerated, they say. Clawed everything out of the poor mech!"

"No!"

"...heard he sawed off his, ahem, special bits too..."

"...they said he did it for fun. Like it was some kinda game..."

"...choked him, hooked him up to some barbaric battery..."

"...kept alive for sixty cycles! Tortured!"

"...always thought those children were kinda wrong. Never thought..."

"NO!," came a screech from farther up the street. Alarmed by the sound, Fireflight turned his attention away from the on-lookers, watching as a slue of officers came out of Starscream's home, the frantic jet at their heels. "YOU CAN'T TAKE HIM! YOU CAN'T TAKE MY SON!"

The Decepticon tried to pry them apart, clawing and biting and screaming up a storm. Eventually, a couple other officers came over and pulled Starscream away from the others, giving the first group the chance to reach one of the holding vans. Fireflight gaped in shock when the 'bots parted, showing little Vortex being thrown into the back of the truck, dark-stained servos and legs cuffed together securely.

The chief of this operation made some sort of biting remark to the pinned Starscream, and was slapped for his efforts. Snarling, the officer gestured for his mechs to withdraw; the holding van starting up and driving down the block first. Crying, Starscream wrenched himself away from the 'bots still holding him, storming back into his home with a flurry of curses and tears. From the windows above, his four other children watched the scene on the street silently; their faces unreadable.

Confused, scared, and sick to his fuel tanks, Fireflight slowly backed away, before spinning on his heel and running down the other end of the street.


	7. Return

Twenty stellar cycles...

Twenty stellar cycles in the stockades. Twenty stellar cycles learning the ins and outs of the crime world, making connections with the underworld, becoming a number one buyer and seller of the black market. Twenty stellar cycles of working out, getting faster, stronger; becoming more cunning, more twisted, more conniving. Twenty stellar cycles fragging, hurting, tricking and pretending, getting on everyone's third side -the side when no one wanted anything to do with him, too afraid by how he might react- getting them to play right into his servos.

Twenty long, dark, infuriating stellar cycles of waiting, counting, lusting, hungering for this day...

The day he was finally granted parole -freedom- from prison and unleashed back out into the unsuspecting world.

Vortex grinned as he walked out of Kaon's infamous stockades, the bright sunlight warm on his shivering rotors. "Finally," he purred to the barren, empty plain, "You will be mine, Fireflight."

**xxXxXxx**

Walking through his front door was no different than it had been twenty stellar cycles ago. "Honey, I'm home," Vortex sang, ignoring the crash that came from the kitchen. Jauntily, he skipped past the living room, waving hello to a shell-shocked Brawl, before dancing into the kitchen and swinging his arms out with great flourish. "Surprise!"

"...I'm guessing then that you've made parole...," Starscream bit out sourly. The jet was currently picking up the pieces of a broken plate, throwing them into the trash with great ire.

"Awww... not so happy to see me, momma?," Vortex jokingly pouted.

"Why they let you out, I'll never know," the brightly-coloured Decepticon snarled, "But you're confused if you'd think I'd welcome you back with open arms. You ruined my life, you lil' brat!"

The helicopter grinned, unfazed by the harsh words. "But you said you'd always love me, momma dearest. And besides, weren't you the one who fought so hard for me to get out in the first place?," the grey mech jibbed.

Starscream scowled, turning away from his son. "That was before I realized how fragged up you were! You weren't repentful about murdering that mech -not even a little bit. In fact, you were fragging gleeful during the trial. You got up and danced when they brought in the evidence," the jet snarled, growing angrier and angrier by the astrosecond. "The lawyer couldn't even proclaim insanity, because you scared the wits out of the psycho-analyzer five kliks into your diagnosis! You're the first Cybertronian ever to be given the life sentence, in a maximum security prison, with at least half your sentence spent in solidarity confinement- at the age of eight!"

The jet slammed his fist on the counter in his rage. "Why the frag SHOULD I want you back!," he screamed.

Chuckling lowly, Vortex slid up behind Starscream, wrapping his servos around his carrier's waist and pulling the other Decepticon tight against his frame. "Because momma dearest," he cooed, whispering directly into Starscream's audio, "I did it all for a noble cause."

"BULLSLAG!"

Vortex stepped back, avoiding the fist that came flying for his face, grinning, his rotors twitching in his delight. "Anyways, I don't plan on staying for very long," the younger Decepticon said cheerfully, "I just wanted to come collect a few things; check up on you and my brothers. Oh, and if you'd be so kind as to give me Fireflight's address, I'd be most happy. You know, our babysitter."

Starscream stared at Vortex for a long, silent klik before he started to laugh. That, the grey mech thought, was not the reaction he'd been expecting. Chuckles dying off, the jet gave one last, bitter snort, turning away from his son again and returning to the dishes he'd been washing before Vortex had come strutting in. "Well now, I guess you've made a trip for no reason then."

"... Come again," the helicopter demanded, amusement no longer present in his tone.

The jet looked over his shoulder with a sneer. "I mean," Starscream elaborated, "That the lil' Autobot quit the day after you were taken into custody. I heard he moved half-way across Cybertron a stellar cycle later, to attend some sort of school or whatnot. No one knows where exactly; it was all kept hush-hush. Haven't seen or heard of him since."

Starscream turned his helm, staring down at his cruelly smiling visage in the sudsy water. "How peculiar though that after all this time, you come back looking for him. You always seemed very attached to that mech-"

Looking behind him as the front door slammed, the jet was not surprised to see that Vortex had left. Snorting again disdainfully, the Decepticon returned his attention back to his dishes, continuing from where he had left off.

**xxXxXxx**

How dare he leave without telling anyone where he was going!

Vortex whirled on the spot, round-house kicking a nearby post. The metal cracked and buckled, before the entire thing came crashing down to the sidewalk. Snarling, the helicopter slunk away into the nearest alley, sticking to the shadows and moving quickly away from the accident. Though he knew he should be a little concern about being sent straight back to Kaon for his violent outburst, he was more preoccupied with the sour bit of news his carrier had shared with him. Fireflight had up and left? Just disappeared off the face of Cybertron nearly?

Rage flashed through the Decepticon.

How dare he, he thought again. How dare that little Autobot just assume that he could go!?

And quitting so suddenly...

Vortex came to a stop, restraining himself from toppling over the building next to him. Had Fireflight not even tried to stick around? No, the mech seethed, he probably couldn't take being in the city anymore, especially not after-

The helicopter's visor flashed.

"Perhaps... perhaps you were afraid, snowflake?," Vortex muttered to himself. "Yes... yes, that must be it. You must have been so scared! Beloved lil' me being taken away for murder, and your rapist dead... How distraught, how conflicted, you must have felt! So you ran away, trying not to think about it all."

The Decepticon grinned insanely, clapping his servos together. "Yes, that must be it. Your delicate, lil' spark wouldn't be able to take such horrible news," he purred, getting lost in his rationalizations. "Mmm... you were always such a sweet, naive one. Still, you've made it into a kind of game now, snowflake. You've gone into hiding, and now, I must seek you out. I do enjoy a good hunt."

Vortex's rotors gave a tremble as he swooned. "Yes... Yes, I will hunt you down, my lovely Fireflight. And when I find you..." The helicopter's grin turned cruel and predatory. "When I find you, I shall do to you everything I've been forced to wait to do, all these years. I shall make you mine and you will scream, begging and crying, for more."

"But first!," Vortex noted, turning in the alley and taking a different path. "First, I must see my brothers. They will have the things I'll need for our lil' game." Chuckling darkly, the mech disappeared into the shadows, thrilled by the new game he had just found himself in.


	8. Brothers

Swindle felt something was off the moment he walked into his apartment. Arm flashing for the light switch, the jeep was suddenly knocked to the floor; cursing and rolling around, trying to get the weight off of his back. He gave up as soon as his assailant pinned him to the floor again, arm tight against his neck cables, cold cackling echoing behind him.

The sound of it made Swindle jolt in recognition.

"Vortex? Is that you?!"

"Ding ding ding! Give a golden star for my lil' bro," the helicopter laughed, shoving the yellow mech into the floor before leaping to his pedes and revealing himself to the other Decepticon. "Did you miss me?"

Clearing out his intakes a little noisily, the jeep pushed himself up, looking at the grey mech sourly. "I wasn't aware you were coming back. I thought you were sentenced for life."

Vortex snapped his mask back, smiling toothily at his brother. "Life with parole, brother," he explained. "They let me out for being good."

"You?," Swindle snorted, "Good? Since when?"

The helicopter cupped his cheekplates, visor dimming in mock innocence. "Since as long as I could lie," he sang. He quickly reached forwards, looping an arm around his brother's shoulder plating and yanking him forward unceremoniously. "But let's not boast right now," he continued, smiling again in that frightening, predatorial manner, "I wanted to see you, my dear brother, because as word goes, you know all there is about everyone in our dear family."

The jeep frowned, even as he wriggled momentarily in Vortex's grasp. "So you came to harass me for info? Why the frag should I give it to a psychopath like you?"

He knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment the red visor flashed. Choking, Swindle clawed at the servo clenched tight around his neck cables, his pedes kicking against the wall uselessly as Vortex held him up in the air. "Oh, you're going to give me that information, Swindle," the vicious vocalizer purred, "Or I will show you the _true_ meaning of pain. Twenty stellar cycles I've been away... I've learned a lot since then, Swin. And yet none of you cared to write. How sad."

He dropped his gasping and coughing brother to the floor.

"Funny how time flies," the helicopter chuckled.

"W-what...," Swindle croaked, rubbing his bruised neck cables as he slowly pushed himself up, "W-what do you w-want?"

Vortex squatted, poking the smaller mech on his brow. "I want to know what's become of my dear Fireflight." A blank look of puzzlement. "You know...," he sighed exasperatedly, "That little white Autobot that had once been our babysitter."

The jeep stared in disbelief. "You're telling me you fragging left prison to come and find... find some stupid, little jet that you were fixated on when we were sparklings?"

"Yes," came the immediate and shameless reply. Vortex's grin stretched wider as he leaned in closer to his brother. "He's always been mine. But now that my sweet Fireflight has decided to run off while I was locked up, I must put all my plans on hold."

Swindle shivered at the lustful look being poured on him, even if he knew he wasn't the one it was meant for.

"Alas," the helicopter sighed, rising fluidly to full height again, "Without even a lead, I can not possibly start my search for my wayward jet. Which is where you come in! Convince the others to help, and I'll... hmm, oh, I don't know. I'll give you my keys into the underworld communications and weapons trade."

"W-what?! You've got access?," the other Decepticon gaped incredulously. "I've been trying to get my pede in the door for MONTHS! That's just not- waaaaaaaait a klik..." Swindle frowned. "Why the slag would you give me your connections without first tormenting me with them? They're no good, aren't they! Why else would you give me something unless it was utterly useless."

Vortex grinned. "Not so. They're perfectly fine. They're just..." He shrugged. "Boring."

"Can't win a game if you already know all the cheat codes," he added, smirking sinisterly. It was best, the jeep decided, if he didn't comment on that. Mulling over his brother's offer, Swindle came to a decision.

"Very well... I'll look for leads and update you on recent events. But," he quickly added, raising a finger, "You're going to have to convince Blast Off and Onslaught to help you on your own. I do the research, I give you the information, but I'm not about to kill myself to get you supporters. I still want your connections as trade though."

The grey mech circled around Swindle quietly, humming to himself. Swindle tried his hardest not to flinch at the threatening action. "Hmm... you strike quite a bargain, Swin," Vortex replied slowly. He circled around suddenly, grabbing the other mech's chin. "No less than what I'd expect from my traitorous, little brother. It's a deal then. Tell me all you know... and you may have your key to the underworld."

The jeep smiled tightly, shaking Vortex's servo. "Let's start with Blast Off...," he began, taking a seat on the couch.

**xxXxXxx**

Cosmos hummed softly as he headed home after work, a bag of groceries carried in each servo. Taking his time, the Autobot waddled contently down the street, never minding that it slowly got darker and darker as he went along. Reaching his apartment, Cosmos took out his keycard, swiping it through the front door security system and heading inside for the lift upstairs. Changing up to a more jaunty tune, the little green mech hurried down the hall upon exiting the lift, unlocking his apartment door and heading inside.

The lights were on when he entered.

"Blast Off," Cosmos brightened eagerly, waddling quickly into the kitchen area with his things, "I'm home! And I bought us some things for dinner." He heard someone walk into the kitchen quietly from behind him, and smiling, the spacecraft began to pull his groceries out of the bags. "You'll never guess what I found at the market either! Your favourite: zinc carbonate mints! And I-"

The Autobot gasped as he turned around, finding not Blast Off as he had expected behind him, but some looming, insanely grinning helicopter. "Sorry, babe," he cooed lowly, stalking forwards, "But those aren't my favourites."

"W-who...," Cosmos struggled to say, but the words quickly fled him and he backed against the counter in horror as the very obvious Decepticon drew closer, servo raised. "HE-!"

The stranger lunged forward before he could even get his scream out, grey servo cupping around his entire mouth, silencing all sound. Fans whirling in a panic, the Autobot kicked and scratched at his assailant's servo, optics flaring in wild distress as neither affected the helicopter. Leaning in, the Decepticon chuckled lowly, whispering his words into the panicking mech's audio.

"You know you're a cute, little thing. Kinda chubby, but hey, I can swing it. I don't mind having a lil' extra leverage." A mocking purr from his engines. "Funny though that he'd choose you. Or, well, any of this really. Guess m-"

Cosmos' optics flared in surprise as purple claws wrapped around the stranger's visor, ripping him away from the smaller mech and across the kitchen. The helicopter slammed violently into the opposite wall, dropping to the floor, as Blast Off shifted slightly to take a protective stance before the Autobot; fingers half-flexed in wait. "B-blast Off!," Cosmos whimpered softly, grabbing the tall Decepticon's arm. "Oh, t-thank Primus! I thought t-this mech was you a-at first and he s-startled me so, I d-didn't get the chance to-"

The shuttle gently raised his servo, only to push the Autobot behind himself further, hiding him from sight as the stranger slowly clambered back onto his pedes. Visor cracked a little and wiping a thin trail of energon from his chin, the grey mech stood up straight, cackling as he faced Blast Off. "Well, well, well... I see someone's got some possession issues," he chuckled darkly.

" _Leave_ ," Blast Off ordered shortly.

"Oh, but I came _so far_ to come see you! Don't you want to-"

"Leave or I will _make_ you leave."

"B-blast Off, m-maybe we s-should c-call the E-enforcers! It's-"

"No. I can handle him," the Decepticon quickly cut in; his helm turning only an inch towards the other spacecraft.

The helicopter laughed loudly again. "I would sure hope so! You'd make a slag-poor brother if you couldn't put me down once in a while."

The silence that followed could cut paper. Cosmos looked between the smug looking stranger and his glaring bondmate, confused and a tad afraid. "B...Blast Off...?," he called softly, "W-what... what is he t-talking about?"

The shuttle's fists balled tightly at his sides as he glared at Vortex, promising through his visor never-ending pain and suffering. Vortex's rotors only shivered though at the look; an insane gleam of joy flashing across his own red visor. "He is as he states...," Blast Off slowly replied, anger seeping into the tone of his vocalizer. He struggled to keep it down as much as possible, when addressing Cosmos. "But he was sent away many years ago... I was not aware that he had returned."

"S...s-so..." Cosmos tried to make sense of everything; servos twisting together worriedly. "H-he is your b-brother then?" He glanced at Vortex from around Blast Off's arm, uncertain if he should smile kindly at the other Decepticon or not. He decided to not, when he helicopter turned his attention to him again, taking a frightening step forwards.

Blast Off took a step to the side, hiding the smaller mech from view again; turbines starting to heat in his anger. At the action, Vortex lifted his servos casually, leaning back. "Come now, come now," he grinned behind his mask, "I just want to get a better look at your lil' mate. I ain't going to do anything. Promise."

The shuttle only narrowed his gaze.

"I've got my own lil' sweet tart I have in mind," the helicopter continued, his vocalizer dropping a tad. Now it wasn't so easy-going and joking. Now it was serious, and even... aroused. "You may remember him... The name Fireflight ring a bell?"

Cosmos grasped Blast Off's servo, tugging shortly to draw the taller mech's attention. He waited until the purple band turned, glowing down on him faintly, before he whispered up at the shuttle. "I-i... I'm concerned... I-is he someone we c-can trust?"

Ignoring the watching Decepticon, Blast Off raised a servo, cupping Cosmos' cheekplate and stroking the yellow plating softly. "He is not someone you are to be alone with...," he answered, "I will talk to him and then I will make sure he is gone shortly. I promise he won't return afterwards."

The shuttle paused, glancing back at Vortex with narrowed optics.

The helicopter scratched at his chin nonchalantly. "Yeah, sure," he mumbled, to the silent demand, "I'll go. Like I really care about your stupid aft bondmate and your cookie-cutter life."

Turbines snorting shortly in ire, the brown mech turned back to the spacecraft, stroking his cheekplate again; trying to cheer him up after Vortex's cruel words had struck him hard. "Give us a few kliks," he said lowly, bending down, retracting his mask and kissing Cosmos quickly, "We'll finish our talks and then we can proceed with dinner."

Nodding, the Autobot waddled from the room quickly, taking care to skirt around Vortex as he headed further down the hallway, into the apartment. The grey mech watched, chortling at the sight of those chubby hips swaying from side to side. "He must have a slag load of aft to bang against when your-"

The helicopter choked on the rest of his words as a fist swung into his cheekplate; metal crunching and glass skittering across the floor as Vortex crashed to the ground, face-first.

"Continue that statement," Blast Off warned lowly from above, cracking his knuckles, " _Please_."

Vortex laughed through his dented mask, rolling on to his rotors.


End file.
